


A Knight's Devotion

by Spiderlily_Writes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, F/F, Masturbation, Pining, Rhea really really wants to bang Catherine, Service Kink, Sexual Frustration, like so badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: Archbishop Rhea truly loves each and every person who labors in her name. Some, she wishes she could love a little more intimately.
Relationships: Catherine/Rhea (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	A Knight's Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my fic for Day 6 of FE3H Wank Week, for the prompt "Worship". 
> 
> And, since it's my last fic for the week, we've got a little treat for you! I collaborated with my lovely beta-reader and writing comrade [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells), who wrote a companion piece to this same evening, but from Catherine's point of view! Want to see what Catherine got up to? Go have a look at ["A Bishop's Grace"!](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/25749493?view_adult=true)! Show her some love, she's great.

It was late; far later then Archbishop Rhea preferred to be awake, but she couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling of worry that had coiled deep in her stomach like a viper. Her knights were supposed to have been back hours ago, and although she always did her very best to remain cognizant of the fact that they were  _ knights _ , and that the job was inherently dangerous, she couldn’t help but worry.

She loved them all dearly, each and every one. They carried her name on their lips into battle, they fought at her command, and, unfortunately, they sometimes died in the name of creating a better world for all of the Goddess’s children. If anyone asked her, Rhea would fervently deny that she would ever have a favorite. It was her responsibility after all, to ensure that all of the Goddess’s children were cared for just the same.

In private, though, in the rare quiet moments she had to herself before surrendering to sleep’s gentle embrace, bathed in the gossamer moonlight cascading down onto her bed, there was one name upon her lips without fail.

_ Catherine. _

And so, as she sat straight and proper upon the throne in her audience chamber, hands folded gently in her lap, Archbishop Rhea felt fear.

Seteth, her erstwhile and dedicated companion, stood by her side, unwavering. She knew he had to be tired, but he would never say so. Rather, he made a small gesture to get her attention, then spoke. “Lady Rhea, I understand you wish to see the knights home, but do you not think it would be prudent to get some rest? I will ensure they are warmly received, I promise.”

She smiled placatingly and turned her gaze a few degrees in his direction. “While I do not doubt your words, Seteth, nor would I ever, I  _ do _ doubt I would manage to get much sleep as I am now.” Rhea could see him, see his face, out of the corner of her eye. He bit his lip, as if he wished to argue, but he wouldn’t. While Seteth could sometimes worry to excess, he also trusted her to take care of herself.

They remained together in companionate silence for several more minutes, before she heard, just barely, the sound of footsteps outside the chamber, likely ascending the stairs. Booted footsteps. Her eyes fixed eagerly on the door, and she gripped her gown tightly, trying to keep her hands from trembling.

As the door swung open, Rhea barely managed to fight the impulse to bolt eagerly from her seat. She  _ did  _ fight it, though, reminding herself that such a display would be most unbecoming of the Archbishop. Instead, she stood slowly and allowed just a little bit of the joy she felt to show upon her face. Rhea descended the steps before her and stood, impatient yet perfectly still, at the bottom of the dais. 

Catherine trudged through the door, her posture straightening as soon as she saw that it was not a captain or Seteth who awaited her report, but the Archbishop herself. Rhea’s smile grew fond. Catherine, as ever, was her beautifully devoted, perfectly chivalrous knight.

Her beloved’s walk toward her felt painfully, achingly slow, but she took a deep breath to steady herself. As Catherine approached, Rhea could see that she did not appear to be injured, but her weariness was plain on her face and in her stance. She was tired, and probably not just because it was so late. Rhea fancied that perhaps, the knight had pushed herself to return that evening, not simply because she had given her word, but because she wanted to see Rhea as much as Rhea had wanted to see her. The idea made her feel warm.

When they were a scant few paces apart, Catherine sank to one knee, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. “Lady Rhea,” she began, respectfully, “I’m honored that you would receive me yourself at this hour.” She looked up and met Rhea’s eyes.

Rhea opened her mouth to speak, but Catherine’s gaze pierced her like an arrow, filling her with a sweet, aching sense of longing. Catherine had stopped to shed her armor, and as such, was kneeling before her in simple boots, trousers, and a shirt of grey homespun. She looked no less beautiful for it. Rhea considered herself blessed by the goddess indeed that such a woman would be brought into her service. She wanted nothing more than to lift Catherine from her knees, guide her to bed, and remain with her there for hours, to let Catherine show her  _ exactly _ how devoted she was. 

Her thoughts only became less tasteful from there. She took in, with hungry eyes, Catherine’s sweat-slicked brow and damp shirt, the garment clinging to her in a way that emphasized the shape of her body and the toned, perfect musculature of her arms. She beheld the grime and dust of the road upon her servant’s cheeks and hands, and considered how lovely it would be to spend the evening wiping every inch of her clean in the baths. Her eyes trailed carefully down Catherine’s jawline, considering how it would feel to have her tongue trailing that same path. She felt a flush rising in her face at the idea, and she spoke on none of these things.

“It is no trouble, Catherine. I wished to see you safe with my own eyes,” Rhea said instead, coughing gently to hide her hesitation. Catherine smiled brightly at her, and it cut straight through the exhaustion on her face, her eyes gleaming in a way that set Rhea’s heart fluttering. Oh, by the goddess, what had she done to deserve Catherine? “Your report can wait until the morning,” she continued, “for now, I think it would be most advantageous for you to get some rest. I shall be retiring myself, shortly.”

Rhea extended a hand down to Catherine, and her knight took it, sending a shock straight through her. Rhea ignored the voice in her head telling her to pull Catherine into her embrace, and instead she simply helped the other woman get to her feet. “Thank you, Lady Rhea,” said the knight, her tone relieved. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure we’d get back tonight, and I’m absolutely beat.”

“Catherine,” Rhea chastised, “if you are not feeling well, if you are too tired, you may delay your return and rest. While I do appreciate your commitment to returning to me, your safety and happiness are not inconsequential, and I would have you see to those, as well.” 

Catherine, though, shook her head.

“Respectfully, Lady Rhea, while I appreciate the offer, I don’t think I will. I might be tired, but I would rather be tired at home than rested and away from it.” She met Rhea’s eye once more, and there was something there. Some spark, some kind of  _ knowing _ , and it sent a chill down Rhea’s spine.

“I don’t feel like I’m truly safe until I’m wherever you are.”

* * *

Archbishop Rhea still couldn’t sleep.

Earlier, she had been worried for Catherine’s safe return. Now, she was unable to banish the lascivious whirlwind of thoughts she had set in motion by her hungry, needful gaze. She felt almost guilty about looking at Catherine in such a way. She was her subordinate, her servant, and yet something about that relationship made such ideas all the more appealing.

Her soft, silken sheets, normally quite comfortable and unremarkable, felt stifling, suffocating her. Rhea’s body was hot, unbearably so, despite the fact that she was wearing only a thin short shift and her smallclothes, and her room was ordinarily quite cool. She writhed in anguish, knowing, guiltily, shamefully, there was only one way she could banish these feelings and gain some relief.

She groaned, rolling onto her back and throwing her duvet and topsheet aside. Her hand slowly, lightly traced its way down from her stomach to the increasingly slick spot at the apex of her thighs.

Rhea gently teased at her clit with one finger. Her free hand gripped her bedsheets.

Unbidden, a fantasy began to play out in her mind.

_ It’s late at night, and Rhea finds herself unable to sleep. Anxiety has her mind in a vice grip, and she anticipates that a stroll will help. Rather than wander aimlessly though, she makes her way, slow but determined, to the cathedral. _

_ If she cannot find any solace in sleep, Rhea reasons, perhaps she might find some in faith. _

_ As she enters, though, she finds she isn’t alone. Catherine kneels, alone, before the altar. The knight doesn’t seem to notice Rhea has come in behind her, and she remains still. Rhea takes in the sight for just a moment, before daring to interrupt Catherine’s reverie. _

_ “Dear knight,” Rhea calls, and she sees Catherine flinch. “Relax. It is only me.” _

_ Rhea continues to advance forward, walking the long expanse of tiled floor separating the two of them. The dark of night has suffused the cathedral, and only a few scattered lanterns light the space. As she approaches Catherine, she sees that the other woman wears the same ensemble she had been when she returned from her mission; grey shirt and trousers, plain boots. But it is of no consequence. They’ll be gone soon enough. _

Rhea slipped two fingers inside herself, and covered her mouth with her other hand to stifle the moan trying to escape her. While nobody else slept near, she wished to take no chances. She pumped the fingers in and out, sliding her other hand down to continue to work at her clit. She desperately wished that it were someone else doing it for her.

_ Catherine begins to stand, but Rhea moves in front of her, puts a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down on her knees. “You need not rise, my darling, my love. You may remain as you are.” Surprise shows on Catherine’s face for but a moment, and it is gone. She trusts Rhea. She knows she’ll not be misled. _

_ “Yes, Lady Rhea,” Catherine mutters breathily. Ever obedient. _

_ “What brings you to your knees so late, Catherine?” she asks, the knight’s name rolling off her tongue sweetly.  _

_ She hesitates, then speaks. Catherine would not deny her liege. “I couldn’t sleep, Lady Rhea. I felt like I was being drawn here. I thought perhaps the Goddess was telling me this was somewhere I needed to be.” _

_ “Oh, what providence,” Rhea says, her tone dreamlike and soft. “I feel as though you might be right. Tell me, my darling, do you love me?” _

_ The question clearly catches Catherine off guard, but she responds nonetheless. “I- I do, Lady Rhea. More than anything. I owe you my life, and my heart followed suit.” _

The warmth pooled low in Rhea’s stomach as she continued to tease herself, to give in to this basest of desires. She didn’t move too quickly, though, she didn’t want it to be over too fast. She savored it, every second, imagining that instead, it was Catherine’s hand, or perhaps her mouth. She whimpered Catherine’s name quietly, her lips barely parting to breathe it out.

_ “I am overjoyed to hear that, Catherine,” Rhea says, “I love you too, you know. Very much. Never before have I felt such adoration.” _

_ Catherine nods. “Of course, I know you love all of us. It’s one of the things that’s so wonderful about you.” _

_ Rhea laughs, a deep, husky sound. “Perhaps, my dear, but that is not what I mean. I do love all of my knights and faithful, truly. But I love you especially. You have my heart just as surely as I have your own.” She reaches down and takes Catherine’s chin at the end of one finger, tilting her head up so that their gazes might meet. She sees tears welling in Catherine’s eyes and wants only to kiss them away. _

_ “Truly?” Catherine asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “You feel that way about me?” _

_ “Lying is a sin, my love, one which I dare not commit. Least of all, to you.” _

_ Rhea sinks down low before Catherine, meeting her at eye level, before leaning in and kissing her, hard. Catherine doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t pull away, she returns the kiss, hungry, desirous, and Rhea knows she has her. She slips her tongue into Catherine’s mouth and dances with her partner’s. After a moment, Rhea pulls away and stands. _

_ “I would have you prove your devotion to me.” _

Rhea bit her lip to keep from crying out even louder than before, her whole body tensing. She didn’t simply  _ want _ Catherine, she  _ needed _ Catherine, she would move mountains and topple kingdoms just to watch her blonde head bobbing between her legs.

_ Catherine looks up at Rhea with stars in her eyes. Her lady need not explain any further. She leans forward, prostrating herself on the floor at Rhea’s bare feet. She kisses the top of each one, before following Rhea’s leg upward. Her lips tickle against Rhea’s bare skin, but she luxuriates in the sensation. Catherine’s hands follow, rubbing up Rhea’s leg, as though Catherine hungers to touch every inch of skin on Rhea’s body. She quite nearly purrs, it’s everything she’s wanted. “You are so beautiful, my knight. So lovely in your devotion. I am blessed by the Goddess indeed to have you.” _

_ As her beloved reaches Rhea’s knee, and her nose begins to brush against the hem of Rhea’s shift, she looks up at the Archbishop for permission. Rhea nods at her, but before Catherine can resume her ministrations, Rhea speaks again.  _

_ “Remove your clothes, Catherine, all of them. I would see the body that serves me.” _

Squirming in her bed, Rhea stopped, letting that building heat level off and recede. She came so close, so very close, but she knew that bringing herself to the edge would only make her final climax that much stronger.

_ The knight strips for her immediately, throwing her shirt carelessly to the side and revealing a bronzed, scarred, toned torso. Rhea bites her lip, doing her very best to maintain her composure as Catherine stands and kicks off her boots, sending them flying. While it seems as though she sends them in a random direction, Rhea sees that none of her clothing has approached the altar. Even in desperation, Catherine is respectful. _

_ Her trousers follow, and Catherine stands before her, legs together, eyes up, proudly. Her knight clasps her hands behind her back as she endures Rhea’s careful inspection. At first, it looks as though perhaps Catherine’s mind is elsewhere, but Rhea notices that her breathing is coming short and stuttering, she feels the heat coming off Catherine’s body, she sees the ravenous desperation in her eyes. She sees the rivulets of moisture trickling down Catherine’s legs. Rhea smiles openly, pleased. _

_ The Archbishop steps closer, so they’re but an inch apart, and she brings one hand up between Catherine’s legs, running a finger up the slickness upon her thighs and laying one, slow, languorous stroke across her folds. Catherine closes her eyes and shudders.  _

_ “So wet for me, my dear knight. So ready to serve. So beautiful.” Rhea waits for Catherine to open her eyes, then pops the finger that touched Catherine between her own lips, swirling her tongue about to clean it. Catherine swallows hard. “Ambrosia,” Rhea sighs. _

_ She walks a slow circle around Catherine, who remains stone still. Rhea runs her finger over the beautiful, sculpted expanse of the knight’s torso and back, occasionally trailing across one of the many light scars that crisscross her skin. “So many scars, so much pain you have endured for me,” Rhea muses sadly. _

_ “I would suffer it again, twice, thrice, as long as it was for you, Lady Rhea,” Catherine breathes, and Rhea knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she speaks only the truth. It warms her to be the object of such veneration, but it saddens her, as well. _

_ “My dear, sweet Catherine. I know you would, and it is one of many reasons I adore you so, but I desperately wish you would not have to. I wish to create a world where such pain is not necessary. Perhaps in such a world, you and I can be together as we would like. Would that not be wonderful?” Rhea breathes against her ear. _

_ Catherine seems overcome, she doesn’t speak. She simply nods, once, and as a tear rolls down her cheek, Rhea leans in and kisses it away, salty sweet. “But for now, I shall have you as you are.” _

Rhea’s body ached, truly, but her heart matched and surpassed any sensation of the flesh. She began to pleasure herself again in earnest, moaning Catherine’s name as though it were a holy word, a prayer, making her will manifest. She would have her. She  _ would _ . This time, as Rhea approached her limit, dancing at the edge, she did not slow.

_ Catherine sinks back town to her knees, reverently, not taking her eyes off of Rhea’s until she’s all the way back to the floor. Rhea nods, again, and Catherine continues her earlier trail of kisses and caresses past Rhea’s knees and up her thighs. It’s enough to make the Archbishop gasp, as she feels Catherine’s hands slide up behind her legs, up further, to the curve of her backside.  _

_ She feels those rough hands, the strong and dexterous fingers pressing into her skin as her knight holds her in place and nuzzles eagerly against the growing damp patch on her underclothes. Catherine is animalistic, driven, and she pulls those underclothes down, letting them drop to the floor. She didn’t ask, no, she acted preemptively. She anticipated Rhea’s need and continued to provide. As a good servant should.  _

_ Her tongue is on Rhea, quickly, excitedly, and Catherine laps up the slick upon her thighs as though it’s the only sustenance she’ll ever need. Rhea braces herself with one hand against the waist-high gate before the altar, and reaches down to bury the other in Catherine’s hair, pulling gently. “Catherine, my darling,” she moans, “Catherine, my love!” _

_ Rhea’s cries only drive the knight on, faster, more furious, more zealous. Though they are in a cathedral, though they stand in a place of worship, Rhea knows that Catherine’s thoughts are not on the Goddess, no. She knows, clear as day, what her knight believes holy. She feels the love, feels the adoration, feels the adulation that lies upon Catherine’s tongue and on her lips and she knows, in that moment, that it is all for her. She is exultant.  _

She cried out Catherine’s name once more, high and choked and sobbing as her body exploded with bliss. Rhea thrashed on the bed, kicking at her sheets and blankets as her body convulsed and burned, as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed through her. 

Her hips bucked into her hand and she kept going, pushing, drawing it out as long as she possibly could. She imagined Catherine there with her, coaxing more out of her, whispering gospel and glory against her skin as though she was the only thing in the world worth knowing.

It could have lasted ten seconds, it could have been hours, and when Rhea finally recovered from her rapturous climax, she was bone-tired and completely spent, gone limp onto her bed. She was panting, her chest rising and falling hard and her heart beating like a drum. She’d not come that hard in a very long time.

After a moment of basking in the afterglow, her body pleasantly warm, she felt something, a dried track on her cheek as though from weeping. It was sobering, and made her more aware of the churning mixture of emotions within. The inferno of need that had been coursing through her had finally died down, but in its place was a low, throbbing melancholy. 

Her fantasy banished, Rhea knew that she was still, as ever, alone, and after dragging her linens back over herself, she pulled one of her pillows from the head of her bed. Rhea held it close, shutting her eyes and imagining that it was Catherine,  _ her _ Catherine, there beside her.

Her knight could protect her from much of the pain in the world. She could foil assassins, stop arrows, shatter blades, and crush men and monsters alike beneath her armored heel. She had done an admirable job thus far.

  
_ Perhaps, too, _ Rhea mused as she drifted off to sleep,  _ Catherine could even protect her liege from a broken heart. _

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, big huge thanks to [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells) for beta-ing this and for writing an amazing companion fic. Feel free to come worship me on twitter @spiderlilywrite and visit her @tansybells!


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